The Funeral

It was well after dark when the funeral began.

The event was secretive, with almost no ceremony or fuss at all. Even Andre's body, released just today from the morgue of the Essex County Sheriff's Department, had been moved here after dark under utmost secrecy.

There was no other way it could have been done. Media, law enforcement, and the prying eyes of the curious and the angry were all over New Stratford. The massacre at Iroquois High School had catapulted Andre Kriegman and Calvin Gabriel into national-level infamy, and their families were left holding the bag.

Reporters and journalists were everywhere. They were there every time Chris Kriegman so much as stepped outside his house. They were there even if he didn't go outside, though; he could hear them almost every hour of every day. They wanted an interview with "the gunman's cousin".

That was what anyone with the name Kriegman had been reduced to, anyone with the name Gabriel. "The gunman's cousin," "the gunman's mother," "the gunman's father." Maddie and Eric Gabriel got to be "the gunman's sister and the gunman's brother", a status Jonas Kriegman shared with them.

All of their names and faces were known to the world now. Chris couldn't go to work anymore, even if he wanted to. The Gabriel and Kriegman parents were all taking time off, and Jonas was on emergency leave from the Marine Corps. He had been planning to come home to see his family ahead of Andre's upcoming graduation from high school in June. Instead, he'd come home early for… this.

Chris had not wanted to go to the funeral. He was not especially interested in even pretending to mourn someone like Andre. But he had grown up knowing Johanne and Gerhard and their one, then two boys. And no matter what the media or anyone else said about him, Andre was still Johanne and Gerhard's son. He was still Jonas' brother.

Chris was here for them. Not for Andre. He was here to lend what support he was able to, although it was obvious by now that no amount of support would do any good.

It was as if a blast big enough to level buildings and toss trains through the air like toys had occurred in the Gabriel and Kriegman families' lives, sending shockwaves outward from the center. Andre and Calvin had caused irreparable damage to the lives of dozens, ultimately hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. Chris believed it couldn't be worse than being related to someone who had caused so much misery and pain.

Because not only was your loved one dead, not only were you subject to knowing that, but you got to live with knowing that your dead loved one had killed all the others. Your brother, your cousin, your son, had caused the pain everyone else was experiencing. You didn't get to even mourn publicly or properly because so far as the world was concerned, you were in on this, too. Somehow. You were responsible for something, you were to blame. It didn't matter how. You were complicit by sharing their blood and their family name.

Chris remembered the last time he'd seen Andre. Twelve, maybe thirteen or fourteen days ago. It seemed like a whole other life. Andre had given not even the slightest hint that his death and the deaths of his best friend and a dozen others was close at hand. Just days away. He had given no indication of what he and his best friend were about to do.

The media and many, many angry and miserable people were speculating that the parents had known, or had not raised their children right, or had not looked hard enough. Chris, the man who had simply had the misfortune to own guns and- somehow- let Andre and Cal figure out where he stored the key to their safe, was getting raked over the coals for that one, again and again.

Johanne and Gerhard were like sleepwalkers. They were holding themselves together, but just barely, and cried often and freely when away from the public eye. Neither of them shed a tear in public, where the press, the grieving families at Iroquois, or any number of other people who saw the Kriegmans as the villains of this tale could see.

The media speculations about Johanne and Gerhard's failures, and the questions from angry and grieving parents about how the Kriegman elders could have let this happen, went on anyway.

Jonas, their only remaining child, was getting his share of the flak and then some. He was a warrior, a highly-trained and lethal Marine. He was a professional killer. People were asking if Jonas' choice of career, where killing was literally his business and his job, had not inspired Andre somehow, or at the very least better equipped him to do what he had done.

There was no way that was true, any more than were the speculations that Chris had willingly handed over the guns Andre and Calvin had stolen. Or the ideas going around that this was somehow a product of some deliberate failure or neglect of duty by the parents.

But it didn't matter. People were angry, confused, frightened. They wanted answers, any answers, and the last people they cared about in the middle of the uproar were the families of the dead shooters.

That was all they were now. Andre and Calvin had been high school seniors just days ago, ordinary human beings. Now, they were demons. That wasn't going to change, either. The picture being painted of them was the one that would endure, in some form or another.

Chris knew none of the Kriegmans or the Gabriels had much right to complain. The loved ones they'd lost had taken loved ones from a dozen other families before they went. To inflict such agony on the world before they went… it was unspeakable, unforgivable. Chris just wished that people understood that Andre and Cal's families hadn't been in on this, that they were deeply ashamed of what their relative had done, that they were experiencing pain and grief, too.

But Chris wasn't gonna hold his breath on that.

XX

The priest had agreed to allow the Kriegmans to come here to mourn tonight; Chris knew him. All of the Kriegmans in New Stratford knew him. This was the church Johanne and Gerhard had attended since moving here. It was the church both of their sons had attended as children. The priest was an old friend of the family. He was discreet as he made the arrangements. He understood.

After some quiet back-and-forth, it was decided that the Gabriel family would not attend. Johanne and Gerhard made sure to plainly state the invitation, and Jonas and Chris had agreed it was for the best that it be made. But the Gabriels had not wished to intrude on something that, given its unique and specific nature, had to be private. Pam and Steve wanted to let the Kriegmans have this chance to grieve freely to themselves.

Of course, Calvin's funeral was open to the immediate Kriegman family in return. Chris had decided to politely decline. Johanne and Gerhard were still debating what to do. They wanted to help the Gabriels, to let them know they weren't alone, but it was hard for them to so much as leave the house. Even when the media were gone for the day, Johanne and Gerhard feared to go out. They were worried they would be seen.

Jonas had declined to go as well, and had been quite abrupt when Chris had asked him about it later. Jonas didn't share anything with Chris, didn't confide in him. He ignored Chris most of the time and was strangely cold and unfriendly when he did speak to him. He was that way with almost everyone but his parents, whom he obsessively watched over and tried to help. Jonas was holding it together, but the strain was beginning to show, and Chris had a sense that while Jonas did not blame him for what happened, Jonas had revised some things in his mind and no longer saw Chris as a friend.

Andre's last actions had changed everything.

Already, Chris found himself routinely thinking of his life in two phases: "Before May 1st," and "After May 1st". 2002 would be 1 AM1, the new calendar Andre and Calvin had created for their families. Everything before May 1st, 2001 would be completely separate from everything after.

Everything.

It was going to be that way as long as any of the people who had been directly affected by the shooting lived. Before, and after. Their lives would be divided that way, measured that way. Chris felt a kind of quiet horror when he considered that, when he contemplated the horrific damage his cousin had done to the lives of so many.

Had he known?

He had to have known. Andre was too smart not to have seen this coming.

But had he cared? Oh, now, that was a question you didn't even need to ask. You knew the answer to that one. Any fool could see how much Andre had cared about what his actions would do to the world around him. And any slight remorse he might have had for what his actions would do to his family had clearly not been enough to stop him.

A few other members of the Kriegman family had come, and a few members of Johanne's family. A few cousins, like Chris, the grandparents, who were equally devastated, equally in shock at what Andre had done.

After sitting there in his plain black suit for a while- he had no idea how long exactly- Chris realized he had probably better break the damn ice, go up there, and talk. So he headed up to where the priest usually stood at the head of the center aisle, and looked out over the wreckage of his family.

"I'm Chris," he said, then cleared his throat. "I want all of you to know that those were my guns used in the shooting. Mine, and my Uncle Gerhard's. Andre and Calvin talked me into taking them shooting at the range a time or two. While they were at it, they made sure to figure out where I kept the key to my gun safe, and where Uncle Gerhard kept the key to his. They stole our guns right when they meant to and used them. They used us…"

Chris hesitated. He wasn't sure if he was even supposed to be speaking. Maybe some of his family blamed him for this, even if they wouldn't say so or didn't consciously realize it themselves. Jonas, for example. Chris had a feeling already that he would never have his friendship with Jonas back, not ever again. Not even if both of them wanted it back.

"Uh… listen," Chris said after a minute. "A lot of people out there think this is my fault because most of the guns Andre and his best friend used were mine. If you want to hold me responsible, go right ahead. If it will make you feel any better, go ahead. I truly had no idea this was coming- none of us did- but I want to help those of you who are suffering get through this. So blame me if it will help you. Uncle Gerhard, Aunt Johanne… I can't imagine what this has to be for you, losing your son, for Jonas to lose his brother. I am sorry. I am so sorry. Andre did what he did but I will never understand why he left you all to suffer like this."

Chris had meant to say more, but he ran down at the end of that last sentence and couldn't find his voice again. So he awkwardly headed back to where he'd been sitting and went back to trying to be invisible.

Johanne got up next. She looked out at everyone and said, "Andre was my son. He is still my son. I did not raise him to do this. Gerhard and I never raised him to do anything like this. What he did will be with us for the rest of our lives. I still love Andre, but I will never forgive him and I will never understand why he did this. I remember every moment I ever spent with Andre. I remember when I first met him at the hospital. He was so small. I remember him as a child. He was… I never imagined he would…"

After some effort, Johanne composed herself and went to sit back down with her husband. Gerhard stood after a few minutes, but he could say no more than a terse, "Thank you for coming. Andre was my son. I loved him. But I am… ashamed… of him. I am ashamed he used the life he was given for… this. I am ashamed of my son."

XX

Over the next twenty minutes, a handful of additional people went up and tried to speak. Gerhard's parents tried and got no further than their son. Johanne's parents expressed their horror at what one of their grandsons had done, but affirmed they, too, loved him still and wished he had never done this. A few cousins spoke as well, making various remarks. Mostly, people wanted Gerhard and Johanne to know they were not being blamed by their own family. They needed to hear that; after all, they were being blamed by everyone else.

Jonas sat alone, dressed in a black suit and tie. He gave no indication if he even heard anyone speaking. He sat far away from his parents, from anyone else who was there. He kept wringing his hands and stared almost exclusively at the floor. Chris had never seen him so lost.

When he had arrived in town on emergency leave late- very late- on May 1st, Jonas had been stoic. In the days since he had asserted a cold indifference, reserving what emotion he did spare for private interactions with his parents. Now, the façade had cracked and the misery Jonas felt was making itself known.

Finally, when it seemed like Jonas was just not going to say a word, he stood up and walked to the same spot where everyone else had stood. He looked out at the few who had come to mourn Andre's death. The pale, strained look to his face and the dark circles under his eyes spoke of tremendous stress and sleep deprivation; the tears running down his face spoke of his grief.

"Thank you all for coming," Jonas said awkwardly. "I loved my brother."

Jonas stood there for several seconds, moving his mouth but not making a sound.

Then he went on, "When Andre was born, that was when I knew I wanted to spend my life in uniform. Wanting to protect this country started as wanting to protect him. I loved Andre. I loved him so much. But I got busy as I grew up and I just… I left him alone. I assumed he was doing fine, that he'd tell me if anything was wrong, but… I let him down and I understand that now. It's my fault Andre is dead, and all those people- because, I can- I- I can see every time I wasn't there for him. Years. For years I was never there. I was…"

The dark-haired Marine officer mumbled something and stared at his feet for almost a minute. Chris was terribly saddened and frightened, seeing him like this. To see a person of such tremendous energy and strength reduced to so little… it was unnerving to watch Jonas come apart. Chris had not believed anybody would take Andre's death harder than his parents, but, if someone could top them, it was Jonas.

After visibly struggling to get himself back under control for another half a minute, Jonas cleared his throat and continued to speak.

"At some point I wasn't there for him when he needed me most and I'll never… never forgive myself for that. I loved Andre from the day he was born. I did. I was seven. I remember. I remember… I will live the rest of my life without knowing why he did this. The rest… of my life. This will always be with me. This is my failure. None of it would've happened if I'd done my job as Andre's brother and… and I take responsibility. If you-"

Jonas abruptly stopped talking and stared at his feet again, then looked up briefly. "Uh… thank- you…"

With that, Jonas half-walked, half-staggered away from where he'd been standing, at the head of the center aisle of the church. He was crying when he went to sit down again, far away from everyone else in one of the pews. He was sobbing, and trying very hard to be quiet about it, when Chris approached him.

"Hey," Chris said, reaching out to touch him. Jonas jerked as if shocked and smacked Chris' hand away with all his considerable strength. He glared hatefully at Chris and looked like a dog that was ready to bite.

"Leave me alone, man."

"There was nothing you could have done, Jonas," Chris said insistently, keeping his voice down.

"Shut the fuck up," Jonas hissed dangerously.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Chris said as gently as he could. "You gotta understand that."

"You get away from me, Chris, or so help me God-"

"It isn't your fault, Jonas. Please. We're all struggling right now. It's not just you and you didn't cause this."

He tried setting a hand on Jonas' right shoulder in an effort to console him, forgetting what had happened last time. Jonas abruptly shoved a palm against Chris' chest, hurling him to the floor.

"Get the fuck offa me!" Jonas shouted, and everyone else in the church turned to look.

"Sorry," Chris said, getting back up. "I'm sorry. It's okay, man."

"No, it's not," Jonas said, shaking his head. "It's not okay. It's never gonna be okay again."

"Jonas-"

"Don't- touch me! Don't speak to me! You stay the fuck away from me; just-just leave me the fuck alone! Andre's dead. You understand that, you dumb fuck? Do you? My kid brother's dead. He's fucking dead. Leave me alone. Just fucking let me- God, my little brother's dead. Fucking leave me alone."

The dark-haired 26-year-old moved to go to sit somewhere else, even farther away from everyone. Chris let him go and made no effort to follow him. Once he'd gotten about as far away from the others as he could be and still be in the church, Jonas sat down, put his head in his hands, and bawled helplessly, like a child.

A/N: This story is derived from a number of sources. For one thing, it is inspired by Brooks Brown's report of the brief, quiet funeral held by the Klebold family at a local church, at night, for Dylan. Byron, Dylan's older brother, said no more than "Thank you for coming. I loved my brother."

This story is also based out of some discussions I had with another user and author on this site, calgabriel, and the story "The Aftermath". "The Aftermath" was originally written and uploaded by another user- whose name I will not mention- and then deleted sometime in 2016. I rewrote it from memory and recovered fragments, then found an exact copy I had saved of the deleted stories and re-uploaded that as well. In "The Aftermath", Chapter 1, Chris Kriegman is depicted. We get to see his thoughts one week after the shooting, including how Andre's funeral is on May 7, 2001. Hence that is the day I selected for the funeral in this story.

I hope I have not focused excessively on Jonas in this story. The former Zero Day movie website, the text of which is preserved and available on this archive in my 'story' "From the Website", stated that Andre had an older brother. I had actually imagined that Andre had an older brother even before learning that was a canon detail, and worked to develop a history and personality for the character. I pictured Jonas as an important part of this story and so included him the way I did.

All reviews are welcome. I know how rare feedback of any kind is on this site, most of all how rare it is on so small and obscure an archive as this one. Tell me whatever you want. Be honest. Just be polite.

Thank you, calgabriel, for all your assistance to me and your contributions to this archive. To any readers, if you like this or any of my other stories, be sure to read calgabriel's stories and visit his page. You will not be disappointed.